June 2nd, My Special Day: My Life as a Healer

Hello, everyone. June 2nd—what kind of day is this for you? What kind of memories does it hold?

To be honest, I woke up this morning not feeling very well. For my late breakfast, I had my usual everyday routine: Cheerios, a banana, warm soy milk, and cacao powder. But right after eating, I started feeling a sharp, piercing pain in my stomach.

I rested in bed for a while and decided to just take it easy today. I tried to balance my energy using Qigong, but the feeling didn't really change. That’s when I realized, "Ah, right now, it is time to focus on healing myself." I started watching some videos on YouTube, believing that the message I needed to hear would find its way to me.

The videos that caught my eye were about a 115-year-old man and a 105-year-old woman living in Japan. Both of them looked so incredibly happy, surrounded by their families and pets.

Watching them made me reflect deeply on my own happiness. Right now, I have a husband whom I love from the bottom of my heart. Actually, we are not living together just yet, but I am truly looking forward to the day when we can start our life together. I want to spend as much time as possible with him in this lifetime. Because I know our past-life connection, I want to cherish every single second and live each day appreciating this happiness.

In addition to the time I spend with my loving family, I have another very warm routine in my daily life. It is the practice of sharing my meals with my ancestors.

Actually, my ancestors truly enjoy watching me eat. I am very sensitive to flavors and temperatures—whether something is spicy, bitter, hot, or cold—and my ancestors thoroughly rejoice with me in tasting the natural flavors of the ingredients themselves.

Before, when I ate alone, I used to dedicate the first three minutes of the meal to my ancestors, letting them enjoy it first before I started eating. But one day, when I asked them, "What is the best way for us to eat?" they told me, "We want to eat together with you." Since then, I have been placing my meals on a tray and eating right alongside them.

special dinner

I grew up in an environment where I was used to eating in large, lively groups, so even now, I still feel a bit of a resistance or loneliness when eating alone. However, ever since I started sharing my meals with my ancestors this way, I can feel them being surprised or delighted by tastes they have never experienced before or by modern foods, all through my own eyes. It brings me a beautiful warmth, reminding me that I am never truly alone.

Yet, in the midst of this beautiful life, today carries a very profound meaning for me. On June 2nd, 1998, I gave birth to a baby boy. Today is my son's birthday.

It was my first time raising a child in America. Since I had loved babies and children from a very young age and had experience working as a babysitter (childcare provider), I didn't find parenting all that overwhelming back then.

On the day my son and his father left for Japan, I promised him, "I'll come back to see you very soon." Tragically, that became the last time I would ever see my two-and-a-half-year-old son. Shortly after, I was told that we could no longer meet.

Due to cultural differences and various complicated circumstances that are hard to put into words, going back to visit him became extremely difficult. At first, I tried sending him gifts. However, knowing that my son was being raised under the pretense that I was no longer a part of his life, and understanding that my presence was not welcomed by the other side, I made the painful choice to simply step back and wait for the day we might finally meet again.

Today, I hold no resentment toward anyone. Everyone involved had their own complex situations, and I understand that I am not the only one who suffered through that painful time.

I will not be sharing any further details about the past. To protect my peace of mind, I would deeply appreciate it if you could kindly refrain from asking questions or offering opinions on this matter, and instead, just watch over me quietly.

Because I keep myself busy and usually have a wonderful, joyful life, I truly thought my heart had completely healed. But our bodies are always honest, aren't they? My body flaring up on my son's birthday was its own gentle way of telling me, "You don't have to force yourself to be strong today."

So today, I decided to dedicate the day to cradling and comforting the part of me that still carries sadness deep inside. I took a nap, enjoyed a cup of coffee in the afternoon, and planned nothing else but to write this blog. From now on, I think I will make my son's birthday my own official, personal day off.

Not a single day goes by without me thinking of him. The bittersweet ache of knowing he might have felt lonely is always there. Even so, just knowing that he is alive somewhere out there in this world is more than enough for me to be deeply grateful.

And finally, to my dearest son: As a healer, I send my deepest, heartfelt prayers into the universe, wishing with all my soul that wherever you are under the sky, you are living each day in good health, peace, and happiness.

My life has seen events that completely tore my heart apart. But it is precisely because of this journey that I discovered a sacred calling a long time ago:

"To help those who are hurting, those who find it painful to keep going, and those whose souls feel lost, so they can find their way back to themselves."

Everyone encounters pain or experiences massive, overwhelming shifts in life that are incredibly hard to accept. Healing doesn't mean trying to erase those moments; it means gently acknowledging and embracing the part of you that was hurt. That is where self-healing begins, and in doing so, it naturally transforms into a light that can help heal those around you.

I am who I am today because of my ancestors who passed down this gift of life, and who continue to share my daily meals with me. To my ancestors, I offer my deepest gratitude.

It is my sincerest wish that my beloved son, and all of you reading this blog, can live in peace, harmony, and gentleness with the ones you love.

Let us appreciate this life we are living, and cherish each and every day.

※ This blog post was originally written by me in Japanese with all my heart, and translated into English using AI translation. If any expressions seem a bit unnatural or if the nuances differ slightly, I kindly ask for your warm understanding.

Thank you for reading.

Love

Kazumi